Irene
by Queen Artemis
Summary: Songfic based on the song Irene by TobyMac  little itty, bitty Dasey... Rating based on adult themes


Disclaimer: I do not own Life With Derek or TobyMac's _Irene

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_Last night I had a dream you was the homecoming queen  
Today you're 18, happy birthday Irene  
School you had to drop out to raise your little child  
Doesn't seem to be anyone around  
You got to reach up to touch rock bottom  
The powers that be keep you downtrodden_

I woke up to the screams of my little boy. From his crib in the other room he was throwing a royal tantrum, completely bored by his bed at this point. I raised my head from the pillow and gazed blearily at the clock. The red numbers mocked me as they read 5:45. I groaned and pushed my body off the bed, trying to feel around the darkened room for my robe. I wish I could just go back to the wonderful dream I had been having. The dream that I always seemed to have on days like this. The one where all my dreams were still out there, within reach. It's the dream where I actually got to attend my senior homecoming, and I was crowned queen. It's the cruelest of all my dreams, because I wake up and remember everything that was stolen from me in one moment of incestuous obsession. I love Tristan, but I hate the way I came to have him. I prayed every day for a month that it had all been a dream, and that I had only imagined that night, But Tristan is the proof that it happened.

As I walked slowly towards Tristan's crib in the living room of our little one-bedroom apartment, I remember the most malicious and painful fact about today. It's only my eighteenth birthday. Tears start to roll down my cheeks as I reach Tristan's crib and pick him up, cradling his five-month-old body to mine. He looks like his father – so much so that sometimes it is painful to look at him. But then he will smile at me and I will remember why I love him – even though I hate his father.

After calming him down and feeding him, I brought Tristan into my bedroom to play in his playpen – where I could see him from the shower. I take a quick shower, knowing that I wouldn't feel safe until I could see Tristan and make sure he was still there-still alive. As I am showering, my thoughts drift to my family, and the tears start again as I wish things could have been different-that I could have woken up today in the McDonald-Venturi household knowing I was loved rather than in this depressing, white-washed apartment where no one knew who I was. Wishing for the impossible was something I had gotten very good at in the past year. I wished that I could see my mom and sister again. I wished I could talk to Marti, or bug Edwin, or even annoy George. I wished that I could be a part of that big, bustling home and family again. I wished that I could see Derek and fight with him again. But most of all, every day, I wished that my father hadn't raped me when I was sixteen.

_Daughter of Zion, I heard your prayer  
Just cast your cares and please beware of snakes  
They come in all shapes and sizes  
Tempt you, put scales on your eyelids_

I remember that day like it was yesterday. He had picked Lizzie and me up for a "Day with Dad", but Lizzie had a soccer game, so he ended up just dropping her off at the field and taking me to his new apartment. Ironically, it looked just like mine now…the walls did, I mean. All white and blank. I have spent so many hours staring at white walls and wondering why it happened. Wondering why he did it. God knows, he seemed sorry enough afterwards. All I remember is laying on the floor with my panties around my ankles and his finger marks on my neck. The rest is a blur. He made me promise not to tell anyone, that it would never happen again. And then, finally, he told me he loved me. I managed to stop from getting sick until I was back at my mom's house, but then I spent an hour in the bathroom, puking and crying. I hate him. But sometimes I wonder if it was really my fault, like he said it was. Did I really let him think that?

When I found out I was pregnant, I left Mom's house. I couldn't face her, couldn't face anyone in that house. None of them saw anything wrong. Mom was so happy that Dad was taking an interest in mine and Lizzie's lives again that she completely ignored the fact that I hated to be around him. She ignored the looks he gave me, looks that should be reserved for your girlfriend, you fiancée, your wife. Not ones that you should give your daughter. I couldn't face it anymore, so I left.

I got on a bus and rode it for two hours. Then I got off and walked to the nearest bank, where I withdrew all of my savings and went to find an apartment. A tiny, depressing, white-walled apartment. The next I got up and began looking for a job. I managed to find one as a waitress, but lost it the day they found out I was pregnant. After that it was hard to find another one. No one wanted to hire a pregnant teenager that didn't even have a high school diploma.

When I was seven months pregnant, I found an inn where the manager was a wonderful old lady who took pity on my situation and gave me a job as her assistant. It wasn't much, but it was an end to the worrying and stressing about how I was going to afford anything-from medical bills to baby equipment.

The old woman urged me to give Tristan up for adoption, but she didn't understand that I had already looked into it. You have to have parental approval for adoption if you are under eighteen, and I wasn't about to tell my mom or my dad that I was pregnant. So I decided to keep Tristan. It was the only solution I could see at the time. I wish I had told my mom. I love Tristan, but sometimes it is so hard. I miss my family.

_Don't waste your sorrows  
They'll give you strength tomorrow  
Your Calvary's about to come so  
Keep your head up, don't you ever let up  
This storm will pass you be ready for the next one_

It's been five months since my eighteenth birthday. Tristan is a beautiful ten-month-old, almost walking and talking. He brightens up my world every day. Sometimes he is the only reason I am still living. I think I would have killed myself months ago if it weren't for his beautiful face and smile. As he has gotten older, he doesn't remind me of my dad so much. As funny as it sounds, most of the time his expressions and his attitude remind me of Lizzie. And that's why I came to the decision I did yesterday.

It was thinking about Lizzie that made me decide that I had to tell my mom what my dad had done. Just because I was out of his reach didn't mean Lizzie was. And in fact, Lizzie was in his reach, all the time. I couldn't let anything happen to her. She is my beautiful baby sister.

So today I called my mom. When she heard my voice on the phone, she broke down in tears, sobbing about how worried she had been. I felt a flash of guilt, until I remembered what drove me away. It allowed me to stay strong and not start crying on the phone as I asked my mom if I could meet her somewhere to talk. I didn't start crying until I hung up the phone.

I met my mom today. I brought Tristan with me so my mom would understand-so she would see the proof I had. I was so scared that she wouldn't believe me, that she wouldn't help me do anything to protect Lizzie. But I had to try anyways. And if this failed, then I would find another way to protect Lizzie. It's my job, as the big sister. I shouldn't have worried though. When she saw Tristan, Mom's face fell, but then she managed to get over her surprise enough to make small talk for a few minutes. I knew she was dying to know who Tristan was so I finally introduced him to her. She was upset when I told her he was my son, and in fact started to yell at me for ruining my life because of a stupid act. But she stopped when she saw I was crying. She grabbed me and hugged me and cried a little too before she managed to ask me who the father was.

This is where the conversation started to get difficult. In halting words I told her what my dad had done. I watched the emotions cross her face, terrified that the one that would settle would be disbelief. So it was with great relief that all I saw was sorrow and pain.

She asked me why I hadn't told her, and all I could say was that I had been scared of him. She and I cried some more as she held me for a long time. And then she asked me why I decided to tell her now. And that's when I mentioned Lizzie.

_Hey little girl with the pressures of the world on your shoulders  
Don't say that it's over  
I heard your prayers, just cast your cares  
And I'll be there so don't you fear_

Mom went ballistic. She managed to get me, Tristan, and all of Tristan's stuff to her car, buckled in and on the way in a matter of minutes. It wasn't until she stopped outside the complex that I understood why. Lizzie was with Dad that day. I stayed in the car with Tristan while Mom went to get Lizzie. Luckily for my dad, he wasn't there or I think Mom might have killed him. As it was she practically pulled Lizzie's arm out of the socket dragging her to the car. Lizzie didn't understand why, didn't in fact understand anything until we got home. When she saw me in the car she started crying, but I don't think she understood who Tristan was until I picked him up and carried him into Mom's house.

Derek, Edwin, and Marti were there, and all of them were shocked to see me, and even more shocked to see Tristan. I can't blame them. The last time they had seen me, I was on the way to becoming an extremely successful career woman. Then I disappeared and showed up with a baby almost two years later. Anyone would have had questions. I didn't have to tell them though. My mother's phone call to the police managed to explain everything. When Lizzie, Edwin, Marti, and even Derek came to sit by me on the couch, I felt so safe that I started crying again.

_Hush little baby baby don't you cry  
Daddy's gonna sing you a lullaby  
Everything's gonna be alright  
The Lord's gonna answer your prayer tonight  
Hush little baby don't you cry  
Daddy's gonna sing you a lullaby  
Everything's gonna be alright  
The Lord's gonna answer your prayer _

My dad's trial starts today. It is pretty much guaranteed that he is going to get jail time – the paternity test proved that he was Tristan's father, so the trial is really more of a formality. George wanted to be the prosecuting attorney, but there is something about a conflict of interest when you are prosecuting your stepdaughter's molester, and the man you were thrown in jail for assaulting the day everyone found out. It was a wonderful feeling, to know that I was loved and protected again. It almost made up for the time that I spent alone and scared.

_Irene I carried you when you was too weak to walk  
I took to you when you gave your heart to God  
Faithful and true, that's what I'll always be to you  
Believe in you, believe in Me and these mountains have to move  
You have dreams and aspirations  
I knew you before creation  
Your foundation's solid  
I will give you a palace, restore your soul  
You'll be up for any challenge  
Many storms are on the way better sharpen your faith  
Count the cost, take up your cross  
And wear it every day  
Rest in Me and I will give you strength  
Blessed is she, Irene who seeks my face_

Tristan's high school graduation is today. I am so proud of him, graduating as valedictorian. I never told him who his father really is, and he's never asked. I suppose his stepfather is such a wonderful dad that he never really needed to know. I am sitting in the stands, next to my husband, smiling the biggest smile I have ever smiled as Tristan gets up to make his speech. As he begins to talk about the wonderful futures ahead of all the graduates, I look over into my husband's eyes and fall in love again. He has always been there for me, no matter what. And he accepted my son as his own, raising him to be an amazing my man. I reach up and pull his head down for a kiss and think to myself that the day my mother married his father was the luckiest day of my life.

_Father I'm stronger than when I first believed_


End file.
